Antics
by pinveggie
Summary: I mean, Bond must have gotten sick at some point during his life..." Ziva's sick and Tony's annoyed because he has to drive her. Things get a whole lot more complicated when they become involved in a plot to get a dangerous criminal back on the streets.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Antics**

**Rating: T for violence and language.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Pairings: Most likely Tiva. **

**Summary: Ziva's sick and Tony's annoyed because he has to drive her home. Things get a whole lot more complicated when they become involved in a plot to get a dangerous criminal back on the streets. **

**A/N: This idea came to me yesterday while trying to sleep and would not leave my head. Os I started writing it. I really hope you enjoy it. All suggestions, comments and criticism is welcome. Please do review, it makes my day. **

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Tony was grumbling as he stopped once more on his way to the parking lot, waiting for Ziva to catch up with him. _Damn the stubborn woman! _he kept thinking over and over again. Not only had he been forced to take his partner home, which had been entirely McGeek's fault, but now she kept refusing his help despite the fact that she was swaying slightly as she walked and kept falling behind.

Tony sighed. If it wasn't because that day had been living proof, he would've never believed that Ziva could even get sick. From the start of shift, however, it had been clear that she was not feeling well and, despite her assurances that she was fine, she kept coughing - her coughs rather dry and painful sounding - all over the place and rubbing her head as if trying to make a headache go away. As the day had wore on, she seemed to be getting worse, until Tony had come from getting a cup of coffee to find her deep asleep on her desk, her pen still clutched in her hand and the sheet of paperwork she'd been working on lying right below her head.

Gibbs, who'd been in a meeting with the director, had arrived just in time to hear Tony telling McGee that he should take Ziva home, which had been originally McGee's idea anyway. Apparently, Probie had thought that she was in no condition to drive. Tony secretly agreed, but driving Ziva meant that he wouldn't have time to finish his own paperwork, which would then mean that he'd have to wake up early the following day. Nonetheless, Gibbs had ordered Tony to do it, much to his indignation. And now, he was on babysitting duty.

Tony cursed again, this time directed at McGee. The younger agent had been so much more ahead of him on his work and yet he'd been stuck with this task.

His internal complaining was cut short by the rather hoarse voice of his partner.

"Are you coming, Tony?" Ziva was looking at him impatiently with red-rimmed eyes, standing a few steps in front of him. It seemed that, while he'd been seething, she'd managed to catch up and leave him behind, if only by a short distance. The irony was not lost on him. He quickly caught up but was soon forced to slow his pace once more.

"You know, Tony; you don't really have to do this. I'm perfectly capable of driving myself home." Her statement was somewhat ruined by the fact that she had to stop mid sentence because she'd lost her voice and had to clear her throat a few times before she could carry on. He smirked and shook his head.

"Sure Ziva, because there is no chance at all that you'd suddenly just fall asleep on the dashboard, right?" She blushed slightly. "Besides, Gibbs would kill me for disobeying a direct order."

They fell in step silently for a few minutes before Ziva started coughing, forcing her to stop walking for a minute or two. Her coughing fit lasted for quite a few seconds and left her gasping for air. Tony, who had placed a hand on her back while she coughed, looked at her in concern. She was mostly pale but her cheeks were flushed, she was shivering slightly and her coat was wrapped tightly around her thin frame, despite the fact that it was quite warm inside the building; small beads of sweat were also forming around her hairline. Tony was willing to bet anything that she had a fever. She was also clutching her stomach as if she felt queasy. All annoyance he'd felt previously faded completely, she really looked like crap.

"I hate being sick, I _never_ get sick!" complained Ziva when she finally recovered. Tony looked at her sympathetically.

"Don't worry, Zee-vah," he said as they finally stepped into the parking lot. "I'm sure all super spies get sick every once in a while. I mean, Bond must have gotten sick at some point during his life, although I really can't think of an occasion..." He trailed off when they reached his car.

He unlocked it and stepped inside while Ziva did the same.

The sharp jab of the barrel of a gun was completely unexpected and he yelped as it pressed against the back of his neck. Alarmed, he tried to move to see who the culprit was. A cold voice spoke before he could turn his head even an inch.

"Don't move! Eyes to the front, DiNozzo. I won't hesitate to shoot you. Or your lovely partner here." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ziva had a similarly shocked expression on her face. One of her hands, however, was moving to the waistband of her jeans.

A soft laugh rang out. "Hands on the dashboard, David." Tony could see her comply while muttering mutinously. He looked helplessly at his own hands which had been on the steering wheel the whole time, and if Ziva had not been able to pass her movements undetected, then neither would his. He felt like punching the dashboard in frustration but wouldn't dare risk it so, instead, he sighed loudly. A hand snaked out from behind the seats and grabbed Ziva's gun from her holster and then proceeded to do the same with his.

Great! Now there was no way they'd get out of this mess.

"Alright, DiNozzo," said the voice behind them. "You are going drive all the way to your house, okay? Try and let the guards at the entrance know that anything is wrong and you'll pay." He let the menace hang in the air for a few seconds before nudging Tony with gun.

"What do you want?" Tony's question was met with silence and another nudge from the gun. Resigned, he turned on the ignition and did as he was told.

The ride to his home was quiet and tense, especially when they left the navy yard. For a minute both Ziva and Tony were holding their breaths, hoping that someone would somehow realise that something was wrong. They were completely disappointed; they passed through the security checkpoint just as they did everyday.

The silence was only broken every few minutes by a new coughing fit on Ziva's part. This left Tony with a lot of time to think. What on Earth could this man want? How had he gotten into the Navy Yard? Into his car? Now that he thought about it, the voice sounded somewhat familiar but he just couldn't find a face to go with it. More importantly, though, how were they going to get out of this mess? He knew that between Ziva and him they could overpower the man in a blink of an eye when they got out of the car. Or at least, they would be able to under normal circumstances. With Ziva as sick as she was, though... he couldn't take anything for granted. Still, their backups were still in their ankle holsters and they still had their knifes, so there was hope.

When he parked in his driveway, however, he felt his stomach drop when three other men surrounded the car. They were all armed with guns and wore identical smirks, which could be seen under the black ski masks they were wearing. One of them opened the door on Ziva's side and pulled her out brusquely. He received the same treatment.

He was shoved towards his door and ordered to open it, while another man held Ziva back. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her struggling somewhat weakly against the man's grip until she received a sharp jab to her side, courtesy of a 9mm gun. As he fumbled to get his keys out of his pocket, he couldn't stop thinking that they would stand no chance against four armed men and that the fact that they seemed so well organised could mean nothing good for him and his partner.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: Antics**

**Rating: T for violence and language.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or anything related to it, not even the DVD's I just watched.**

**Pairings: Tiva, maybe mention mentions of McAbby. **

**Summary: Ziva's sick and Tony's annoyed because he has to drive her home. Things get a whole lot more complicated when they become involved in a plot to get a dangerous criminal back on the streets. **

**A/N: First of all, thank you for all the reviews. As you can see from the long time it took to post this chapter, I had a lot of trouble with it. Without all your support, I would've probably given up on the story. This leads me to the next issue. I'm really sorry for the delay. At first, I had too may difficulties starting this chapter and then, when I finally got it going, it was the last two weeks of the grading period at school and I was horribly busy. Anyway, now that it's done, I hope you'll enjoy it. Oh, and by the way, happy PI day, which was yesterday, in case you were wondering.**

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As he looked around his own living room, Tony couldn't help thinking he should clean it more often. It was, of course, a very stupid thought, considering their situation, but his current position didn't leave him much to do and his thoughts kept drifting. After having been pushed through his doorway and into his living room, Ziva and him had been thoroughly searched, before being tied up to two of his chairs. Now, if at the time of their purchase he'd somehow foreseen this situation he would've opted for ones that were less stiff. This experience was definitely going to give him a sore back, provided that he survived it, of course.

Shortly after they'd been 'settled', three of the men, including one who he believed to be the boss and the man in the car – who Tony still hadn't had a proper look at, much to his frustration – had left the room, leaving them with a rather big guy with green eyes and a bored look. Of course, that's how Tony interpreted what he could see, which was not much due to the woolly mask he still hadn't removed. The guy had left their weapons on the coffee table in front of them, which, Tony had the sneaking suspicion, he'd only done to taunt them, and told them not to say a word if they knew what was good for them. He hadn't spoken since.

Beside him, he could see Ziva shifting every few minutes in her chair, as if trying to keep herself focused. She swallowed often too and kept coughing every few minutes. It was becoming rather annoying – and worrying, although he wouldn't admit that – in Tony's opinion, so he gathered all his courage and spoke up.

"Hey, don't you think we could get her some water or maybe a cough drop?" he asked, his most charming smile on his face. Unsurprisingly, it didn't work and the threatening stare and the way his captor menacingly cracked his knuckles, not to mention Ziva's own death glare, were enough to make him shift uncomfortably. "Okay then, forget about the water," he said and returned to his earlier activity of scanning the room.

He had, however, learnt something valuable: it seemed that the man had no intentions of making good on his original threat or was, at least, under orders not to. It seemed that Ziva picked up on that too because only seconds later she spoke.

"So, what exactly do you want from us?" Her voice was hoarse and Tony couldn't help but wonder what she'd done to get such bad luck. It was the only time Ziva had gotten sick in all the time he'd known her and it had to be the same day a band of dirtbags had decided to hold them hostage in his own home. It went without saying that this was bad luck for him, as well, considering that at that moment it would not have hurt to have her Mossad skills handy and since they probably were severely impaired...

Still, it seemed that the guard liked Ziva a bit more than he liked Tony because he actually answered her.

"All in due time, Ms. David, all in due time." Of course, it wasn't a very elaborate answer but it was answer, nonetheless, and devoid of any threats. Well, it was an answer Tony did not like. He could think of a million reasons why anyone would want to kidnap them, some more realistic than the others, of course, but he' d like to be certain.

"Well, whatever it is," he said "my boss is going to realise something is wrong eventually."

"And then," added Ziva, "we'll see who has the last grin." Tony rolled his eyes, but smiled inwardly. If she was still attempting to use idioms, and still failing miserably at it, she couldn't be that sick, could she? He opened his mouth to correct her but someone else beat him to it.

"I believe you mean 'last laugh', Ms. David." Tony immediately recognised the cold voice as belonging to the one who seemed to be the leader. The man had a foreign accent; it sounded vaguely British. As he walked into the room, Tony stared at him intently. He wasn't very distinctive: average build, average height and brown eyes that probably matched half of the world's population.

"Same difference," she said, straining to make her voice heard.

"You know, Ms. David, I think, in the best interest of your larynx, you should really refrain from speaking." Ziva fixed the man with a cold steely glare.

"What do you want from us?" asked Tony yet again. He was hoping that since the leader was there they'd get an answer and, well, they did say that the third time's the charm

The man nodded and pulled a chair, sitting in front of them.

"Mr. DiNozzo, do you remember the Finch case, a few years ago?" Next to him, Tony could see Ziva frowning, trying to recall it, but she didn't speak.

"You wouldn't remember it, Zee-vah. It was before you joined NCIS."

"So you do remember," stated the man. He nodded. He remembered all too well. The case had affected the whole team, especially Gibbs, which Tony believed had to do with the fact that one of the victims had been a child.

Lance Corporal Joseph Finch had been found murdered in his home, along with his wife and his three-year old daughter. Later, they had discovered that the man had come across an arms smuggling operation run by a small gang and had paid the price for it. In the end, they had found the shooter, Thomas Haines. He'd run when they'd tried to arrest him and Tony had shot him. Unfortunately, the scumbag had survived, although he'd been in a coma for a week and spent a long time recovering; probably more time than he needed, though, but it had allowed his lawyer to push the date of the trial. It was scheduled to happen in a month.

"What about it?" he asked.

"Well, you see," said the man sitting in front of him. "Haines isn't really all that thrilled with the whole jail perspective, and much less with the possibility of the death penalty and we're hoping to get the murder charges dismissed."

Tony smirked.

"Well, riddle me this, batboy: how are you planning on doing that? They're never going to let him go in exchange for us. Agency policy says we don't negotiate with criminals."

He winced when the man who'd been watching them earlier cuffed him sharply in the head.

"Don't be a smartass, DiNozzo," said the guy in front of him." Although, Larry, don't hit him again. He's our little poster boy and if he turns up all bruised, they'll be suspicious. If you want to hit anyone, the girl will do." He looked at Ziva, as if somehow expecting her to flinch or say something, but she remained stoic, albeit looking exhausted.

Tony stared at the man, wondering what he the hell he was planning and just what they meant with 'poster boy'. Surely, if they _were_ planning on negotiating their release in exchange for something, having Tony and Ziva look a little worse for wear wouldn't hurt their chances.

"The thing is, DiNozzo, that we're not planning on negotiating anything. No, you see, the murder charges will be dismissed because NCIS will lose the evidence, and it's going to be you that 'loses it'." He said the last part using air quotes.

This time, Tony actually laughed out loud, although he regretted it immediately as Larry slapped Ziva viciously. Tony felt a rush of admiration as she did not cry out or even grimace, despite the fact that it probably had exacerbated the headache that he knew she had from the way she'd been rubbing her head back at the office and the empty box of aspirin he'd found in her trash before taking her home.

For a fleeting moment, Tony wondered if Mossad had taught her how to avoid showing pain, which led him to think, for the first time ever, that perhaps she had not only tortured others but had, quite possibly, been on the receiving end of it. It was a rather disturbing thought and he promptly banished it from his mind. Instead he focused on the look of disappointment on Larry's face upon seeing Ziva's reaction. It made him smile.

"Hey, don't do that again. Please," he added as an afterthought. "It's just it seems silly that you expect me to steal or destroy evidence, or whatever it is you want me to do. I'm a federal agent, compromising evidence is at the top of my 'things that you just don't do' list, okay?"

The man laughed softly again.

"I beg to differ, DiNozzo. You are going to do what I tell you because you don't want to lose another partner." Tony eyes widened at the statement, though he'd seen something like this coming. "And your current partner's death won't be as quick as... what was her name again? Oh, yeah, Todd, Caitlin Todd. Anyway, her death won't be as quick as Agent Todd's death. I will personally make sure that Zee-vah," the man let her name roll off his tongue in the exact same way Tony did and, at that moment, Tony wanted nothing more than to kill him. The man carried on," that Ziva dies while screaming in pain and begging for mercy. You get that?"

He nodded mutely. What else could he do?

"Tomorrow," he turned to address Ziva, "you'll call in sick. I don't care what your boss says, you're going to convince him that you need the rest. Do you understand?" Ziva stared at him silently. He grabbed her chin roughly and jabbed a gun against her forehead. "I said: do you understand?"

"Yes," she answered quietly, without averting her gaze.

"Meanwhile you'll go to work, DiNozzo. At the end of the day, when the rest of your team has left, you'll go into the evidence vault. Check all the case evidence out and bring it here. If you do that, we'll let you and your partner go. You have my word."

"What if I don't believe you?"

"You've got no other choice. It's our way or the highway." The man rubbed his chin for a second before carrying on. "And don't even think of letting your colleagues know what's going on. You will be wearing a wire and there will be a man following your every move."

Tony stared at the man puzzled. So they had someone inside, probably the reason why he recognised the voice of the guy in his car. But, if they did have a man inside, then why did they need him and Ziva. He spoke the question out loud.

"Because, Agent DiNozzo, the man we've got inside doesn't have clearance to get into the evidence vault. Do you, Joseph?"

"No, boss. I don't."

A man who'd slipped in quietly while they were talking and had since been lurking in the corner stepped forward and removed his mask. Both Tony's and Ziva's jaws dropped in astonishment as he recognised the man from his car.

"Joe the Janitor?" The man rolled his eyes.

"Yes, DiNozzo, but call me that again and I'll shoot your partner, are we clear?"

"Crystal," he said automatically, his mind still reeling over the fact that Joe the Janitor was a criminal.

"Great." The boss smiled before turning to Larry. "Now that everything is settled why don't you take this two _very_ special agents somewhere they can sleep. I'm sure they both need it, especially Ms. David." The man nodded.


End file.
